


A Manorian Pregnancy

by hermajestymanon



Category: Throne of Glass - Fandom, sarah j maas - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:44:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8300383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermajestymanon/pseuds/hermajestymanon





	

Manon was growing restless. Not being able to get up because of bedrest was making her insane.  
“Don't worry, Manon, I’m sure you’ll give birth soon. And then you can walk as much as you want.” Aelin said, flinging a leg over her chair leg.  
Manons claws grew and she threw a pillow at Aelin, “Why are you even here? Don’t you and your spawn have anywhere else to be? Last I checked you had a kingdom to run.”  
Catching it with swiftness, Aelin put the pillow behind her head. “Me and my spawn wanted to see how Auntie Manon was doing. Sam even brought you a feather. He plucked it off of Lyria when she was in her Fae form. ”  
Manon wanted to growl. But those spoiled rotten rugrats had gotten under her skin. She loved the twins and was proud to be considered their aunt.   
In the opposite chair, Asterin let out a howl. “Why in Gods’ names did he do that?”  
Aelin sighed and looked up dramatically, “He’s upset that she got a bird form an he didn’t. So when she was practicing shifting, he took one of her feathers.”  
Asterin smiled. Manon looked at her second. She saw a hint of sadness behind her smile. It didn’t sit well with her.  
“For a couple of three year olds, they are mighty troublesome.” Manon said, shifting her eyes over to Aelin.  
Mischief lightened her eyes, “Don’t I know it. Considering they’re the only children in the castle right now, everyone is on their toes.”  
Manon nodded. Yes. They are the only children right now. Putting a hand on her large stomach, Manon thought about her witchling, who was due any day now.   
Speaking of witchlings, “Elide told me that she was expecting. It seems that your castle will have more children in it.”  
For a brief second, Manon could see terrible sadness in Asterin’s eyes. But then she blinked and all traces were gone.  
Aelin caught it too. “Elide and Lorcan are excited. They know that Auntie Asterin will love that child to death.”  
Sitting back, one leg over another, Asterin said, “Yes she will.”  
Manon smiled. But suddenly she felt a wetness beneath her.  
Aelin, nose up, most likely smelling the scent, said, “Well Manon, are you ready to be a mother?”

Where’s Dorian? Manon thought.   
“Don’t worry Manon, I’ll go get him.” said her second. Asterin turned and ran out the door after her husband.  
Aelin stood up, rolled up her sleeves, and came over to Manon’s side. She grabbed ahold of Aelin’s arm. “I need Dorian.”   
Calmly, Aelin let Manon’s claws bite into her arm. “He’ll be here. He was in the other side of the castle. Don’t worry. It’ll be alright.” Blood started to drip down Aelin’s arm. She didn’t even flinch.  
Why was she reacting this way? She was a godsdamned witch. She could handle this without Dorian.   
As if sensing her thoughts Aelin said, “It’s alright to need someone, Manon. Even witches.”  
Manon just nodded.  
“He’s here.” Aelin said.  
Dorian burst through the doors, Yrene and Phillippa right behind him and Asterin right behind them.  
“Are you alright?” Dorian asked, coming up to the other side of Manon.  
She rolled her eyes. “Oh Im fine, Just having a witchling come out of my vagina. Otherwise, I’m just grand.”  
Aelin snorted.  
“Sarcasm. A good sign.” smiled Yrene.  
“Someone needs to leave. There are too many...people in this room.” said Phillippa.  
At the same time, everyone said, “I’m not leaving.”  
She sighed, “Very well then. Just stay out of our way.”  
Asterin went on the opposite side of Aelin as Dorian stood next to Phillippa, out of her way.  
“Okay, Manon. I need you to push open your legs.” Yrene said.  
Doing as she was told, a sharp pain went through her abdomen and lower back. Darkness embrace her, she thought she knew pain. She was wrong. Her claws buried deeped in Aelin and Asterin’s arms, blue and red blood alike ran. Neither witch nor Fae flinched.  
Feeling Manon’s stomach, Yrene frowned. She repositioned her hands feeling again. “What’s wrong,” demanded Asterin.  
“I’m afraid the witchling is breech.” said Yrene.  
“You can still deliver her, right?” asked Dorian, ice cracked against the windows.  
“If it were a normal breech, I could deliver her vaginally. But I am afraid she is a Footling.” explained Yrene.  
“What does that mean?” demanded Manon. Her daughter would be born, alive. If she didn’t gods help whoever stood in her way.

\----

Dorian looked at Manon. Her eyes were hard with frozen fury, the gold almost illuminating in the light.  
He turned and looked at the healer who said, “It means that we will have to cut her out, do you understand?”  
Manon bared her teeth, “You do what you have to human. And you pray to your soft-hearted gods that my daughter is born alive.”  
To Dorian’s suprise, the healer didn’t flinch. Instead she turned, Phillippa handed her a blade.  
Turning to Dorian, Yrene said, “I’m going to need your help, King.”  
Steeling his spine, he said, “Whatever you need.”  
“I am going to cut open Her Majesty’s abdomen, shallowly, and I need you to separate the muscles while I pull the witchling out.”  
He nodded, burrowing deep into his magic, readying himself.  
Manon braced herself, claws into Aelin and Asterin’s arms and eyes dead set on the healer, “Do it.”  
Taking the blade, Yrene pierced Manon’s abdomen and cut horizontally through the scars that her grandmother had given her. Blue blood ran down Manon’s stomach.  
Manon’s eyes were clear. She didn’t scream or move. She just held onto Aelin and Asterin.  
Dorian used his magic, like invisible hands and separated Manon’s stomach muscles. He did not let himself think. He did not let himself think that this was his wife. Or that this is his daughter. He just let himself do what needed to be done.  
Reaching over Manon’s legs, the healer reached inside Manon and pulled out the babe. He had moonlight hair and was crying.  
He.  
He.  
He.  
Dorian had a son.   
And he was alive.  
He didn’t let himself think on it, not while Manon was still bleeding.  
Yrene handed him to Phillippa who wrapped him in a red towel.  
“Now, your Majesty, I need you to cut the cord-” he did so with his magic, “while I staunch the blood.”  
A few seconds later, as the blood slowed, Yrene said,” Now I need you to slowly stitch together Manon’s skin and close the wound,” looking at Manon, she ruefully, “It may scar.”  
Manon just said, “I don’t care,” turning her head in the direction of their son, “I just want my witchling.”  
Dorian focused his atttention on healing Manon’s stomach. He weaved skin over skin, closing the wound.  
Finally closed, leaving a pink scar, Dorian finally felt it. He felt his heart feel such profound joy that his son was alive. That Manon was okay. He didn’t realize tears were down his face as Philippa handed Manon their son.

Manon looked down at her witchling. He was beautiful. He opened his eyes, darkness embrace her. One was pure gold and the other pure blue.   
Aelin turned toward Manon, “What are you going to name him?”  
Manon considered, “Ciel. His name is Ciel. It means prince of the sky in a Chrochan dialect.”  
Dorian smiled, leaning over, thumb grazing Ciel’s cheek, “It fits.”  
Aelin smiled then looked down at her still bleeding arm and frowned, “I’ll leave you guys alone. I need to go bandage this up.”  
“Me too,” said her second, kissing the top of Ciel’s head and headed out the door with Aelin.  
Before leaving, Philippa quickly changed the bloody sheets and blankets to a clean set, “Do you need anything else?”  
“No that will be all, thank you, Philippa.” Bowing her head she left her, Dorian, and Ciel alone together.  
Family. This is what family is. The closest thing to family Manon had was Asterin and her grandmother. Now she had her son and Dorian.   
She wouldn’t be like her grandmother. She and Dorian would raise Ciel to be an honerable male. A true warrior of Peace. He will not be made. He would choose to be who he wanted. A king who the world would either deserve or fear. The choice was his.  
Manon turned her eyes to Dorian and then back down at her son. Her son. She was a mother now. Her witchling had survived.  
“Its a good thing the nursery is gender neutral colors.” said Dorian, leaning into Manon  
Manon snorted, “Indeed.”  
“How is he a boy?”  
“Well, last checked he had a penis.”  
Dorian glared at her. “Come on.”  
Manon chuckled, Ciel’s hand in hers, “I think that when I yielded my immortality, perhaps the gift of female witchlings was taken back by the three-faced godess,” she didn’t care, “or perhaps it is a gift from my Chrohan blood.”  
Dorian nodded, cradling the back of Ciel’s head, “Do you regret it? Giving up your immortality?”  
Manon looked at Dorian, his blue eyes yielded nothing, “No.You are worth it. You and Ciel are worth it. Even if I were to die tomorrow, I would know that I made the right choice.”  
He nodded, “What about him? Will he be mortal since he was born to two mortal parents?”  
Manon looked down at her son, mismatched eyes looking back up at her. He had such thick eyelashes. He was beautiful, “ Perhaps, perhaps not. Only time will tell.”  
She hoped he would be immortal though. Let him have a chance to see all the world and all it offered. She looked at Dorian, she could tell he had the same thought.  
Manon smiled and kissed Dorian. She hoped.


End file.
